Not Today
by Sawyerslover
Summary: Sam's first hunt does not go exactly as planned..Hurt/Sam Worried Protective John/Dean
1. Chapter 1

Hello readers :D i hope you enjoy this chapter. I do plan on continuing this. And for those who are waiting for my others spn stories i will be updating those tonight and tomorrow :) Sam is 13 in this. Enjoy 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Sam grunts as his fathers large hand presses down harder on the cloth against the hole in his chest.

"Sorry, Sammy. I have to keep pressure on it." John apologizes. He hates the terrified and pained look in his youngest eyes.

"Dean!"

"Hang on, dad!" Dean cries out in frustration, rummaging through everything in the damaged room. In the midst of a fight with a very angry spirit, Dean had been thrown in the air and against a wall. The Impala's keys that were in his jacket pocket are now missing. The spirit they were hunting had been shoving its hand into people's chest and pulling their damn heart out. Much to Dean's dismay, it had almost succeeded this action on his baby brother. He needed to find the keys. Sam needed a hospital now. Hell, even the first aid kit in the trunk would help right now.

"Dad.." Sam moans, eyes fluttering open.

"I know, baby, its ok. Just hold on, ok? Keep your eyes open for me."

"It hurts, dad," Sam cries, tears running down his face. His breath was coming in short gasp. When he begins another coughing fit, blood flies out and lands on his chin.

John uses his thumb to wipe away a round of tears. "Shh..relax, Sammy," John begs, as he feels tears begin to well up in his own eyes. His baby is dying. He is holding his son while he is bleeding to death This is not happening. John will not let his son die. Not today. Not as long as he is still alive.

"Stay awake, Sam," John says, a little more harshly then he meant too, when his sees Sam's eyes begin to droop again.

"Dadd..."

"Dean..The keys?"

"Hang on-..I got them!"

Dean holds up the keys in a short-lived victory and runs over to drop beside his Sam.

"Is he going to be OK?" dean asks, frantically.

"Yes." Because anything else is unacceptable.

"Go start the car, Dean. I'll bring Sam."

reluctantly, Dean jumps up and runs out of the old house.

"Ok, Sammy. Your going to be ok. I'm getting you out of here," John states, holding the sides of Sam's face with his hands.

_I will not let my son die. Not today. _

Please review 3


	2. Chapter 2

Hi readers :D Thank you very much for all your reviews and follows :D I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

John presses the gas pedal to the floor , racing down the dirt road. Putting as much distance in between him and the house where his poor youngest was harmed. John looks in the rear view mirror to see a heart-clenching sight. Sam is leaning up against his big brother's chest. His eyes are dazed and waving in every direction. Sam is barely holding on.

"Dad." Dean catches his father's eyes in the mirror. The terror in is eyes is all too noticeable.

"I know, Dean," John states, and attempts to press down harder on the firm pedal. "Just keep pressure on it, son."

Dean pressed down harder, gaining a moan from his brother.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." He reached out trembling fingers to touch his brother's face. He placed them lightly against Sam's cheek, stroking against the streaks of dirt as if the soft touch could take away all the pain and hurt.

Sam then ends up in a coughing fit. The cough is dry and rough. Unable to move his hands, crismon lands on the Dean and he stares at it in horror.

"Dad!" He shouted, desperate now, needing help.

"Shit." John cursed under his breath. Turning his head quickly, he sees Sam's eyes begin to droop. "Keep him awake, Dean."

Dean didn't feel the tears falling down his face as he begged his brother for a response. "Sam, Sammy, can you hear me? Come on…Stay awake for me."

"De...It hurts," Sam gasped.

"Shhhh Sammy, I'm here." Dean soothed a hand across Sam's forehead, wishing he could take away his brother's pain.

Sam stared back at him, his eyes glassy and dazed. Dean watched as a small tear brimmed on the edge of his lashes before running free across his face. He wiped it away with the pad of his finger, smudging it into the grime on Sam's face.

"God Sammy." Dean cupped his brother's face, feeling his own tears pooling in his eyes. "It's gonna be okay. I gotcha….everything's gonna be okay."

He wanted a response, needed one, but Sam remained mute; silent, glazed eyes staring blankly back at him. His abused body trembling under his touch.

Dean briefly looked out the window when light hit the dark car. The words EMERGENCY stared back at him. As soon as they came, it was gone. The speed of the car leaving it in it's trail.

"Dad! Turn around! The hospit-"

"I saw it Dean."

"Why the hell didn't you stop?" Dean yelled, but winced when it made Sam whimper. He continued stroking Sam's hair.

"I can't risk it Dean. The sheriff in town has already been asking questions. The spirit is still out there and Sam will be safer under our care."

"But Dad-"

"Dean. That's an order."

Dean wanted more than anything to yell back at his father. Sam was bleeding to death! He needed a goddamn hospital! But another whimper from Sam pulled Dean back into big brother mode.

"Sam, c'mon man, just stay awake a little longer and then I'll let you go to sleep," Dean begged. "C'mon little brother. Dad and I will stitch you up and then you can go to sleep, ok?"

Once in front of a motel, John ran as fast as he could to the front doors. Successfully, he tried to look as though everything was normal as he purchased one night. The next second he was running back out the door and towards the Impala.

"Dean, grab the first aid kit and get inside. I'll get Sam." John ordered, after opening the car door.

Dean pulled the trembling bundle towards him, unwilling to let go. "No dad, I've got him."

John placed a hand over Dean's, halting his efforts. "Dean. Let me, he's heavier than he looks, you know that. We'll take him to the room, clean him up."

Dean kept his hold on his brother for a moment longer before reluctantly letting go and moving aside. He bit his lip as his dad moved in closer and took the spot he'd vacated.

John scooped up his youngest son and cradled him against his chest, careful to keep pressure on the still bleeding hole. Sam whimpered like a small child in his arms, his head supported by the crook of his elbow. He pulled Sam in a little closer and hugged him gently, careful not to aggravate his injuries.

"You're safe Sam, daddy's got you." He whispered against Sam's ear.

Dean flanked John as he carried Sam, semi conscious to the room.

Sam felt himself being lifted and carried, strong arms pulling him in close. His body was shaking so badly now that he feared he'd fall out of the sturdy hold. He could feel the heat radiating off his dad, smell the familiar scent of sweat, earth and smoke that he'd come to associate with his father. He breathed it in, tried to get closer, feeling safe. He never wanted those arms to let him go.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been held like this by his dad, as if he was special, cherished. Held safe for no other reason than just being there.

He closed his eyes, felt the rhythm of his father's footsteps, and listened to the deep timbre of his gruff voice as it echoed through his chest, not needing to know the actual words. It lulled him and he felt some of the tension leave his limbs. He was safe now. He could rest, sleep. He was safe now.

Dean rushed ahead of his father into the motel room and pulled down the covers on the bed so that they could lay Sam down.

"Get the kit Dean." John demanded as he peeled Sam's coat from his shivering body.

"Dad?" Dean hovered at the edge of the bed, after retrieving the first aid kit, watching his father's ministrations.

John didn't pause as he propped Sam up into a seated position with his head leaning into his chest. "Help me get his clothes off Dean. We need to know what we're dealing with."

With gentle hands they stripped the clothes from Sam's body until he was laid out on the bed in just his boxers.

"Oh God." Dean whispered, resting the first aid kit on the end of the bed. Sam was a ghastly shade of white, the worst of course was the hole in his poor baby brother's chest, but he was also mottled with a collection of colorful bruises scattered over his pale body. He looked like a train wreck, battered.

"I'll get some warm water and towels." Dean muttered, turning away, clenching his hands until his knuckles turned white under the pressure.

John kept a soothing hand on Sam's shoulder as he assessed the damage to his son's body. Now that his clothes were removed, and Sam was laid bare, he looked small and vulnerable, younger than he remembered, defenseless.

"Sam? Sam, can you hear me son?"

Sam turned his head to the side and kept his eyes closed.

"Come on Sammy." John cupped his son's chin and turned his face back around. "I need you to open your eyes for me, can you do that?"

"I have to stitch you up now Sammy," He said when he received no response. Sam opened his eyes as much as he could. All John saw was fear, and that broke his heart.

"Dean-"

"I know Dad." Dean didn't needed to be told that Sam would need him during this process. Slowly, he lifted Sam up and gently made in way behind Sam. He pulled Sam as close as he could without disturbing his injury and pulled Sam's head back to lay on his chest.

Dean places a hand on Sam's forehead with the intent of comfort, but he pulls his hand away from the shock of warmth. "Dad, I think he has a fever."

John looks up at Sam's unfocused eyes. "It's just from the wound. He in shock."

Standing up, John puts the scissors back in the first aid kit before rummaging around for the small bottle of pills they always kept for emergencies. "Think you can swallow one of these for me?" he asked, shaking one out into his hand.

"Dean, lift his head up for me, I don't want him to choke." John asked when got no response from his youngest.

Dean let go of his brother's hand and slid further up the bed to prop himself behind his brother, pulling him up until his head was raised. "Come on Sammy, you can do it."

John pushed the pill past Sam's lips. "Swallow Sam." He raised the glass of water to Sam's mouth and tipped until the water met closed lips. "Come on Sam, I need you to swallow for me. Please."

"Come on Sammy, just a little sip." Dean coaxed, rubbing a hand down Sam's arm as he felt Sam's body tremble.

Sam opened his lips and let the first dribble of moisture into his mouth, swallowing the pill down. The water was like rain after a drought and suddenly he just couldn't get enough. He took another sip and then wanted to scream when the glass was pulled away. He opened his eyes just a slit and reached out his hand and pulled the glass back, wrapping his hand over his father's as he guided the glass back to his mouth. The water sloshed over the edge as he gulped it down, desperate for more.

"Sammy, slow down, you'll make yourself sick." John held the glass steady and controlled the angle so that Sam couldn't gulp at the liquid.

When the water was finally drained, John pulled the glass away and placed it on the nightstand.

Sam took a deep breath, his eyes blinking as he tried to focus.

"You with me son?" John asked.

"Dadd..." Sam mumbled, staring at his father before looking up and seeing Dean gazing down at him. "Dean."

"It's alright Sam. I need to stitch you up now though, ok?" John said.

Sam moved his head slowly in what could barely be named as a nod and before Sam knew it, John was pouring alcohol onto the wound and slowly inserted the needle into the flesh. Sam screamed and tears pooled in his eyes. Dean jumped in alarm and grabbed Sam's shoulder in fear.

"Shh..Breathe, Sammy," Dean comforts.

John was now applying the threatening cotton ball to his wound and Sam snapped his eyes shut again in pain. He let out a soft moan as the stinging continued even after his dad had removed his hand.

John took a deep breath and carefully pushed the needle through, Sam gritted his teeth, John could actually hear them grinding together. He ran the needle through the other side of the wound and very carefully pulled it tight. He tied it off and cut the thread. He started on the next stitch, just focusing on the action and not thinking about what he was actually doing. If he thought about it he started getting nauseous.

Sam stays still as he possibly can while John stitches up his side, face turned toward the wall, flinching when the needle goes in. Dean whispers words of comfort to Sam through the whole thing. Fingers clenching and unclenching, hands raising up trying to grab hold of something and sometimes succeeding in pulling at Dean's forearm

John sews, hands slick with blood. He kept going until the wound was closed. Fifteen in all. They were a little uneven, due to shaking hands, but they were holding and the bleeding had dropped off to a trickle. John cleaned the blood away and placed a sterile pad over the stitches, he wrapped a bandage around Sam's chest with Dean's help and looked up at his youngest. Sam's eyes were closed and his face was green-gray.

"All done." John watched Sam's face closely for a reaction, but the silent tears running from the corners of his eyes were the only response

Dean grabbed the the towel from the nightstand and took over the task of wiping clean Sam's face.

John stood up and stretched, looking down at his sons. Dean wiped gently, streaking the dirt with each swipe of the cloth as he tried to remove the mud splattering Sam's pale face.

Sam flinched at the feeling of the damp towel on his face. He'd had enough. He couldn't understand why they couldn't just let him sleep. He wanted to roll onto his side, to curl up into a ball and disappear.

"Get some sleep, Sam." John looked at his son with loving eyes.

Dean slowly removed himself from his position behind Sam and helped him lean back and then pulled the spare blanket over him. Dean was starting to shake, suddenly he felt his stomach protest and managed to get to the toilet before it emptied its contents. When it was empty and all that was left were the heaves, he rinsed his face with cold water.

"Dean, you okay?"

Dean jumped at the sound of his father's voice. "Yeah." Dean attempted a small smile.

"I'll go make us some coffee."

Spnspnspnspnspnspnspnspnspns pnspnspnspnspnspnspnspnspnsp nspnspnspnspnspnspnspn

John took a sip of the strong coffee and wrapped his hands around the mug as he tried to shake off his exhaustion. He lent against the kitchen counter and tried to rotate the kinks out of his neck as he stared across the room at his sleeping son. Sam was bundled under the covers, his face relaxed in sleep, and if it wasn't for his paleness, John would almost have been able to convince himself that this had all been a bad dream.

Dean pulled a chair across to the side of Sam's bed. He'd like nothing more than to lie down next to Sam and grab some sleep, but the spirit that had done this was still out there and he needed to stay alert. He sunk down onto the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. He lent back and settled in to watch his brother sleep.

Dean jolted his head back, realising that he'd been starting to nod off. He stood up and stretched, moving into the kitchen to make himself another cup of coffee. His sat silently as Dean paced the room and slowly sipped his coffee. Before returning to his seat, Dean moved it a little so that he could easily watch both the door and Sam.

A nightmare suddenly overtook Sam's subconscious. With a jerk he snapped back awake, his heart freezing and the fear taking over. Everything hurt. He wanted Dean, but he was tangled, sheets and blankets tying him down. He pushed at them frantically, kicking out with his feet as he tried to break free.

"Dean!" He screamed as the panic took over.

"Sam, shhhh, I'm right here." Dean lent over his brother and grabbed his flailing arms. "Calm down Sam, it's just me."

"Noooo!" He screamed, trying to twist away from the restraining hands. Why did he hurt so bad?!

"Sam?" He called, racing over to his brother's side. "Sam, can you hear me?" He laid a hand on Sam's forehead, checking for the fever. Sam still felt a little warm, his skin ghostly pale, but no worse than earlier.

"Christ Sammy." Dean muttered as he slid onto the bed beside his brother, pulling him in close.

He wrapped his arms around Sam, holding on tight to his shaking body. "Come on kiddo, breathe with me here," he coaxed, "Slow breaths, nice and easy, come on, I know you can do it, I'm here now, right here, not going anywhere."

Dean looked across at his Dad as he walked toward the bed in a rush. "Dad?" He pleaded as Sam continued to kick and struggle against him.

John moved to his sons' side. "Sammy, come on son. You need to calm down. You're going to hurt yourself, undo all my handiwork."

Sam squirmed as strong hands held him down. He couldn't move. Couldn't escape. He wanted to fight, but he hurt all over and already he could feel his body tiring with his efforts. With a sob he stilled his movements and let his muscles go lax. He wasn't strong enough to fight back.

"Sam?" Dean whispered, running his fingers through Sam's curls.

Sam felt the hands holding him down loosen their grip and the weight in his chest lessened a little. He opened his eyes and looked into the concerned faces of his dad and Dean. His heart started to slow and he took in a deep breath as the pain started to ebb away.

"Okay now?" John asked.

"Mmmmm." He mumbled, closing his eyes again.

"Try and get some rest." John whispered, pulling the blankets back up around his son and tucking him in. It had been too many years, he thought, since he'd done this. His boys were growing up so damn fast.

A/N Please review :)


	3. Chapter 3

A cold hand on his forehead wakes Sam.

All Sam can feel is a dull pain in his chest. He can sense that they are holed up in a nondescript cheap motel room. He has a dim memory of being carried in here and laid on the bed. He is on his back, stripped down to his boxers, and tucked under a blanket. It scratches at his chin and he knows he didn't put it there. The hand forces the heat back for a moment and Sam lets out a sigh of relief. It is temporary and new heat burns in to replace it as soon as the hand is gone.

A warm smile greets him when fever dulled eyes finally slit open and Sam sees his brother leaning over him. He blinks slowly because there are two of Dean and the world is just not ready for that. Sam is not ready for that. He barely survived his childhood with one Dean. He blinks again, scratch that, he barely survived his childhood because of one. Maybe two would be better…

"Sammy, you awake?"

"Mhmm..m-..my chest..hurrs.." Sam mumbled, eyes shutting and opening quickly.

"Well duh..Some bitch shoved her hand through it," Dean smirked, then frowned at the sight of Sam's eyes shutting, pain etched on his face.

"Where's..Dad?" Sam asked, eyes opening to look around the room and then closing from the dizziness.

"He just went to grab some food and things from the store. He'll be back soon." Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair in attempt to comfort the confused Winchester.

Suddenly, Sam shot up from the bed. "The spirit..Dean..Get dad!"

"Whoa, Tiger. Slow down. It's ok."

Dean saw a look in Sam's eyes that he had seen many times before and immediately jumped into action.

"De...Sick," Sam moaned.

Dean jumped up from his chair and was back by Sam's side with a trashcan in his hand in an instant. Sam immediately started to empty his stomach.

A firm grip and a comforting hand are on his back as he heaves into a trashcan; there was no way he'd have made it to the bathroom unless he was carried by Dean. And there was no way Sam was being carried as long as he could breathe. He might have let his brother undress him (and really he can't even remember that so maybe he did put up some sort of protest) but he still had at least one shred of his dignity left. Even if a string of saliva hanging from his bottom lip made his brother grimace and offer him a facecloth, suggested otherwise.

"Shh Sammy..It's ok," Dean comforted when he saw tears running down his brother's face.

Sam heaved again, making a sound of pain that Dean would like to never hear again "Relax, Sam. You're going to be fine," Dean stated, looking at Sam's pale and sweaty face.

Dean lets his hand slide lazily up and across Sam's abs, attempting to soothe the rock walls.

"Stop..." Sam mumbles, stilling Dean's hand with his own, but gripping it close. "You're gonna..make me throw up again."

"Get it out, Sam. I've got you."

Sam coughed. "I don't feel good, De."

"I know, kiddo, Dad is on his way with more pain meds." He pushed Sam's long floppy hair out of his face. He looked awful. Like death warmed over. He hoped John would hurry up and get there with the medicine.

"Do you need anything?" Dean asked, concern showing on his face, still rubbing Sam's back.

"Water?" Sam asked uncertainly.

"Sure kiddo." He said smiling. He got up, and got Sam's water.

Sam doesn't remember anything for a while after that. He isn't asleep though; the fever burning through his body won't let him rest. Not while it can torment instead. Sam shakes hard and his teeth hurt but it doesn't stop him from closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

"De.." Sam's hand in now searching through the blankets.

"Right here, Tiger."

Breathing becomes difficult, tepid air grating over an acid sore throat and then something soothing and hot, but not too hot, is held to his lips and he sips without question when Dean says, "Drink." The sweet Ambrosia calms his throat and helps open his congested airways. His brother calls it broth and since Dean is definitely not Zeus, Sam takes his word for it. There isn't much that Dean tells him that Sam doesn't believe really, not the important stuff anyway.

Sam murmurs the words, "Don't go," but no sound leaves his throat and then his eyes slowly start to close, weighed down by the drums pounding in the back of his head. Stubbornly he clutches desperately, reaching out, needing, until his trembling fingers are gripped in a strong, warm hand. Dean says something about only girls hold hands even as he squeezes reassuringly and Sam is too fever worn to answer even if he'd like to tell Dean to just shut up.

Something cool is settled across his aching forehead and Sam moans softly. It feels so good.

"Go to sleep, Sammy. Dad will be here soon," big brother commands and Sam finally does, sinking into a healing sleep knowing that as long as he is holding on, Dean will never let go… even if the older hunter will complain bitterly about it later.

When Dean looks up again Sam's eyes have drifted closed, his too pale face looks relaxed, no traces of pain left. His body is still shivering slightly from time to time, otherwise lax hands flexing weakly whenever he tenses, but other than that he seems to be asleep. And the feeling intensifies, somehow Dean just knows that the worst is over and that his brother will get better. He doesn't fight the small sigh that escapes his lips as he sinks down onto the chair, watching, doing what he has always done best, what it will always come down to:

Looking out for his brother.

* * *

Dean jerks awake when he hears Sam stumbling to his feet from his bed.

"Sam, you think getting up is a good idea right now?"

Tired eyes blink up at him. "Can't… need… have to—" The mumbled words break off and the dull gaze turns away from him, crawls over to the bathroom door which is only a few feet away from his brother's rumpled bed. From the way Sam is shaking with exhaustion it could as well be a hundred miles. Dean watches in silence how Sam leans heavily against the wall next to his bed, swaying precariously on his feet as he tries to find his balance.

"Sam—" Dean starts, but is interrupted when his brother takes a wobbly step and almost goes down. He is on his feet and at his brother's side in time to prevent him from kissing the floor, but only moments later he finds himself almost wishing he hadn't been fast enough to catch him when Sam gets sick all over him. Literally.

He yelps and tries to get out of the way but he isn't fast enough, part of whatever is left in Sam hits his jeans and the miserable groan Sam wheezes out in between breaths is just barely enough to make him hold on to his brother until the younger man finally stops heaving.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean growls under his breath and tries to get his brother upright, stopping when the dark head lolls weakly before it lifts slightly.

"—sssoorrry…" Sam slurs tiredly and he sounds just the right amount of genuinely embarrassed that Dean cannot suppress the teasing words that escape his lips while he helps Sam to scoot away from the mess on the floor.

"Damned right you're sorry, just wait till you get my dry-cleaning bill."

Even a wounded Sam obviously can't resist a little teasing as well, there is the ghost of a chuckle against Dean's side, then his brother's strained voice drifts across the room. "Like you have anything worth dry-cleaning…"

He finds himself grinning and he is careful to keep that out of his voice as he nudges Sam softly. "My clothes rock, you pansy-ass…" He can tell that Sam is trying to keep up with their bickering but clearly lacking the strength to do more than snort weakly at his words. Dean gives him a moment to compose himself, then slowly tries to pull him to his feet. "C'mon, let's get you to the bathroom…"

Sam is shaking like a leaf in the middle of a thunderstorm, there is no way he is going to be able to keep himself upright or on his feet alone. Dean moves in, careful to support him without being too obvious about it, taking a playful swipe at his brother's arm when Sam once again sways and leans heavily against him, panting softly. His wide, unfocused eyes roam the room and from the lost expression on his face Dean can tell that Sam is having trouble remembering where they are. The younger brother groans miserably, trying to hold on to the wall next to them.

"Dean, I can do this on my own," Sam states.

Looking his brother up and down, Dean sighs. "Fine, but if you need help yell. And when your done I need to check you stitches and change your bandage."

Sam rolls his eyes, "Fine, jerk."

"Bitch."

* * *

Dean slightly turn his head at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

"Sam, you ok?"

Dean then turned at the sound of a sickening crack. He watched in horror as Sam fell to the floor; he flinched at noise that was made when his head met the hard linoleum. Dean watched helplessly as his baby brother convulsed violently, his head repeatedly slamming into the ground as he shook. Sam's muscles continued to fire involuntary then stiffen. This frightening cycle couldn't have lasted more than a couple of minutes but to Dean felt like hours. Dean had quickly pulled the scratchy sheets off one of the motel beds and bunched it under Sam's head before dialing his dad's number.

"Come on dad! Pick up the goddamn phone!" Dean pleaded.

"Hello?"

"Dad! Dad, you need to come back now! Sam's having a seizure!"

"Dean. Calm down. I'll be there soon. Here's what you need to do-"

Returning to his brother's side, Dean followed his father's instructions with tears in his eyes as he prayed for him to return back to the tiny motel. Blood was trickling down the side of Sam's mouth and Dean rolled his brother's now slightly twitching body onto his side into the recovery position. John had made it clear not to put anything in Sam's mouth even though Dean's fear of Sam biting his own tongue had now become a reality. Sam seizing slowed a little. He loosened his brother's clothing and waited for the seizure to pass. Suddenly, Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp after being racked by the last painful convulsions. As sudden as the seizure had started, it stopped. Dean gently tilted Sam's head to the side, letting the saliva flow out of his brother's mouth.

Dean watched the slow rise and fall of Sam's chest and tears began to form in his eyes. Pulling Sam close to his chest, he began to cry.

"It's okay Sam," He murmured. "It's over. Your okay."

A/N Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Hello readers :D I hope you like this chapter. Thank you so much for all the reviews, follow, and favorites. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Dean sat on the floor for a while holding his brother's limp body. The slow rise and fall of Sam's chest was the only thing only Dean together in that moment.

"Sammy?" Dean taps the side of Sam's face in attempt to get any response from him. Nothing.

Slowly removing his body from under Sam's, Dean stands up. He leans down and picks up Sam as gently as a person possibly could. He carries him over to the bed and slowly lays him down on it.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Dean dials his father's number.

"Dean?" HIs fathers voice answers.

"Dad. Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back now. I'll be there as soon as I can. How's Sam?"

"The seizure stopped awhile ago. He's sleeping now. Please hurry, dad. M'really worried about him."

"I know, son."

The phone call ended shortly after that. Dean sits down on the bed beside his unconscious brother. Running his hand through Sam's hair, he stops, resting his hand on Sam's forehead. Cursing under his breath when he feels warmth fuming of his brother's head.

"Sammy?" Dean gently shakes Sam, attempting to get any kind of response from him.

"Sam. It's time to wake up now. Come on, Sammy," Dean practically begs.

Suddenly, Sam jerks awake. His eyes shoot open and his breathing goes quickly from calm to short gasps.

"Sammy. It's ok. Your safe," Deans states, beaming. Happy, to see Sam doing anything but sleeping.

"De-..Dean," Sam cries, tears welling up in his eyes.

"What is it, Sam? What's wrong?"

Fisting his hands in his brothers shirt, he shoots up and looks wildly around the room. "Where's dad?!"

"He's on his way. He'll be here soon," Dean answers, wondering why Sam is acting so freaked.

"No, Dean. We need to go get him-"

"Hey, slow down Sammy." Dean gently pushes Sam back down towards the bed when he attempts the swing his legs over.

"No! Dean you don't understand!" Sam shoves his brother's hands away and attempts to get again.

"What, Sam? What the hell is wrong?"

Sam stop and grabs Dean's arms with his hands. "The ghost. We ned to go back and kill her now!"

"We are, Sammy. Once you get a little more rested we will go back and gank the bitch." Dean gently prys Sam hands from him and sends his brother a questioning look.

"No! Dean! She's after dad! She's going to kill him!" Sam yells, horror apparent in his eyes.

"Sam, how the hell do you know that? Dad's fine, Sammy."

"Dean. She-..she's killing dad."

Taking another horrid sounding breath, Sam's eyes roll up into his head and he passes out.

"Shit!"

He dials Dad's number again. Minutes later there was a knock on the door. Dean lets out a breath of relief, runs to the door and opens it… to Bobby.

"Oh, damn," Dean sighs.

"Hi to you too, Dean."

"God, sorry Bobby, it's just Sam, he's .. uh, he's bad."

"Doesn't matter. Lemme see him."

"I called Dad again, but he won't answer."

"Christ..You mean I beat John back?"

"What do you mean?" Dean questions.

"I was on the phone with your dad and he said he was on his way to you boys. The phone cut out and I haven't been able to reach him since," Bobby said, running a large hand through his hair.

Passing by Dean, Bobby walks into the motel room and goes straight to Sam. Looking down at Sam, he sighs.

"He's worse than I thought, Dean."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, shutting the motel door and taking his spot next to Sam.

"Looks like he broke some of his damn stitches when he had the seizure, by the blood on his shirt."

Dean looks down and sees a small stain of red on Sam's shirt. Cursing inwardly at the fact that he did not notice before, he looks up at Bobby.

"I'll have to take him to my place. It looks like he's getting an infection and I have better supplies back at my house," Bobby states.

"Ok. I'll get our stuff," Dean says, jumping up and heading towards their duffels.

Bobby sighs, "Dean, I need you to stay here."

"What! No way. I'm not leaving Sam-"

"I can patch Sam up, Dean. And I hate to ask you to do this, but you need to stay here and look for your father. If Sam gets bad, I have a doctor I can call that helps out hunters."

"Bobby-"

"I know, Dean. I know you want to be with Sam, but I'm worried about John."

Dean looked down at Sam defeated. Why couldn't Bobby go after John? He knew Bobby would take really good care of him, but Sam needs him.

"I'll grab the bags, Dean. You get Sam."

Dean walks over to the bed and picks up his brother gently. Too soon for Dean, they are outside and Sam is laid out in the backseat. He leans in and runs his finger through Sam's hair one last time.

"I'll see you soon, Sammy," Dean whispers.

Bobby looks at the boys sadly and shuts the door when Dean stands up again.

"I'll see you soon, boy. Once you find your dad come straight to my house and rest up for a while."

"Thanks, Bobby."

They say their goodbyes and soon Dean is standing in the motel parking lot watching the truck drive away and then disappear.

A/N Please review!


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